A Miscellany of Dramione Drabbles
by moxicrimefighter
Summary: A collection of Dramione drabbles that have accumulated from various prompt exchanges
1. Greivances

**Greivances**

**Written for DesDiamonds who asked for a harp, tennis shoes and a toy castle**

Hermione squirmed in the large comfortable chair in front of the Headmasters desk as she stared down at her worn tennis shoes, the ones she'd had since fourth year. She'd never really considered herself a very sentimental girl, not completely callous and unfeeling, just too practical to let her emotions get in the way; but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to get rid of them.

Draco Malfoy on the other hand bought new shoes about as often as the moon changed phases. He always believed in indulgence, in flaunting his advantages, whether it be his bloodline, his riches, his fabulous hair, or his newly purchased Italian leather boots.Hermione took notice of the shine glistening off the expensive shoes and suddenly wish she would have worn her mary janes instead of her completely battered sneakers.

Sensing a small motion to his right Draco shifted his gaze over to the russet-haired Gryffindor sitting next to him he took notice of her jostling her leg nervously.

"Really Granger, nervous are we? I wouldn't expect this was your first time in the Headmaster's office, what with you and your track record with St. Potter and Weaselbee."

Hermione chose her usual plan of action and sent him an icy glare, standing up from the leather chair and sauntering over the Dumbledore's desk, picking up the small replica of Hogwarts on his desk, inspecting it as she watched the small replicas of the professors and students flitted about the various halls, stairwells and rooms. Upon closer inspection she saw a tiny version of Snape, sitting in the dungeons next to a giant cauldron..playing a harp?

Thoroughly disturbed, she placed the castle back on the desk and turned to the snarky Slytherin sitting in the chair next to her who seemed to be watching her every move, his classic smirk gracing his royal features.

"Don't look at me like that, this is all your fault! I don't even want to think about what Professor Dumbledore's going to do with us, deduction of house points, detention, and he'll probably-"

"My fault? If I remember correctly Granger you were the one that attacked me." Draco sneered as brushed some invisible lint off of his exquisite robes.

Hermione huffed as she always did when she was defeated and plopped down in her chair, shoulders slumping slightly.

Draco just regarded her cooly as he put his hands behind his head, all the while refusing to wipe the smirk from his face.

"Don't worry Granger, it was still the best snog I've ever had."


	2. Soft as Snow but warm inside

**Soft as Snow (But Warm ****inside)**

**Written for S0methngp0etic who requested giggling, snow, and hands**

She had always loved it when it snowed, he didn't know why. He himself had always hated the feeling of the cold wetness creeping into his boots soaking his socks. He hated the shivering, and the twinge of pink that crept upon his nose (It really did nothing for his complexion)

. But she delighted in it, not just the lovely tolerable kind that covered everything in a nice glistening blanket of white, she loved blizzards, the huge raging snowstorms that would keep them by the fire for hours, snifters of firewhiskey in their hands to keep them warm. She was a simple girl really, all she need was the feeling of his chest against her back and a bit of conversation. He listened to her speeches about elven rights and blood equality until the firewhiskey morphed her long winded diatribes into quiet giggles as she nestled her head in the crook of his neck.

She loved the snow because she said it reminded her of him.

And maybe, just maybe he liked it a little too


	3. Ghostwork

**Ghostwork**

**Written for Derryere who asked for something creepy and someone making a heart shape with their fingers**

"Draco, for the last time, we don't have a ghost,you were just hearing things. you're being ridiculous." Hermione sighed at the platinum headed man cowering under the covers like a frightened five year old. Draco pulled the covers down from their place on the bridge of his nose to expose his mouth long enough to hiss, "Keep it down, he'll hear you!" then covered his face again.

"Oh, I can't believe this is happening." She muttered to herself, as she crossed her arms and glared down at the cowardly lump of Slytherin under the brown down comforter.

"Granger, ghosts are not something to be toyed with, you learn that growing up in Malfoy Manor." came the muffled reply. When Hermione just sighed in response Draco peered out from underneath the covers to see the ever-present Gryffindor bravery flaring up in his girlfriends eyes as she moved towards the door.

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?" He screamed, alarmed at the very prospect of being alone. Ever since a run-in with the ghost of Grandpa Abraxas, Draco had not been a big fan of the ethereal.

"I'm going to prove to you, Draco Malfoy, that there is not a ghost in our damn house."

Then as if a fire was lit underneath him he sat up bolt right in the bed flinging the covers off of him.

"No you are not! Why would you do that? Just come over here and we can hide together, there's safety in numbers" He said, punctuating his statement with a very suggestive wink.

"I'lll have you know that just because you're a coward doesn't mean that I am."

"Well fine," he said resuming his previous cowering as he coninued his speech through the safety of the covers, "It's been nice Granger, thanks for all the superb sex." And with that he snaked his arms out of the comforter and formed a slightly misshapen heart with his fingers.

And with that simple gesture, Hermione Granger squashed her curiousity and abandoned all plans of ghost hunting for the night.


	4. Habitually

**Hab****itually**

**my personal favor****ite drabble ****wr****itten for ****savepureness who as****k****ed for a ****knife, apple, tears. No Dark!fic No Fluff**

Ron Weasley liked his apples cut into quarters.

Everyone has their little idiosyncrasies. some people cover their mirrors before they can sleep, some people put their socks on before any other article of clothing,and some people will only eat an apple if it's cut into four equal pieces.

Hermione, never really understood this little nuance in her husband but was always happy to oblige. She had gotten it down to a science, perfect fourths in two passes of a knife. But some nights, (you know _those_ nights, the one's that usually follow _those _days, where all you want to do is curl up under your blanket and forget everyone else exist.) when she feels as frazzled as her hair looks and Rose's tears seem as unending as the mountains of paperwork on her desk, Ron's apple slices double.

Because, you see, Draco Malfoy likes his apples cut into eighths.


End file.
